The blurb was vague. Bookstore owner Sylvia is reluctant to return to her woodland home; something in the woods, something about herself scared her away. But when her grandfather dies, she knows she has to go home, and face her grandmother, with all her expectations… and all her fears.
I wasn’t mesmerized as I was reading the first few chapters. The story took its time in favor of setting and atmosphere. But, I knew, since this is McKillip, who weaves magic with words, I would be breathless soon.
And I am… The elegant prose, the sunlight on green, the rustle of woodlands, the strangeness, the beauty, and the peril–they make me wish that I myself stand on that place between everyday and something else, something wondrous, and something fey.
Just so I can catch a glimpse; be forever theirs. Maybe, it’s worth it.